Fiendfyre
by Tarklovishki
Summary: Draco recounts the moments he spent in the Room of Requirement, facing imminent death by the Fiendfyre curse.


**Title;** Fiendfyre

**Rating;** M

**Summary;** Draco recounts the moments he spent in the Room of Requirement, facing imminent death by the Fiendfyre curse.

**Authors Note;** This just came to me in the middle of the night and I had to write it down. Consequently, it came to me while I was staring at the Deathly Hallows book amidst one of my many daydreams. I hope you enjoy it.

**Fiendfyre**

I thought I was going to die.

Well, maybe not 'thought' but 'believed'. The Room of Requirement was an inferno, and I clutched desperately to the top of a crumbling shelf and thought, this is it. Everywhere that I looked, something was crumbling, burning. Chimeras, snakes, lions—every animal you could ever imagine—rose up from the flames, a thousand times bigger than what their corporeal counterparts were supposed to be. Their fiery jaws opened and seemed to just inhale items to destroy. The carnage was just unimaginable.

Vince finally succeeded in being the biggest moron on the planet, and he died because of it. I know. I saw it. The idiot, once he realised that he could not control the fire, dropped his wand and the thing started going out of control; it spun around like it was possessed, and the fire ate his body whole.

Of course, the Golden Trio managed to get out safely. Or, at least, they would have a much more decent chance than Greg and I. The fire was much more treacherous near us because of the fact that we'd been standing close to an idiot when the inferno started.

This was an extremely horrible and unfair way to die.

As we reach the very top of the shelf with nowhere else to go, Greg collapsed in a dead faint from the smoke inhalation. Why does he get the reprieve, and I have to stay awake, choking for breath, clutching at him in the hopes that I wouldn't have to die alone.

I tried to follow in Daddy Dearest's footsteps, and look where it got me. Death by fire. Oh, don't get me wrong, I love father. It's just hard to forgive someone when they took you by the hand and helped you walk down this path since birth.

Then again, it's my fault, too; why couldn't I think for myself sooner?

I picked up on a faint whooshing sound and looked up. My heart clenched in anger as I saw three broomsticks shoot up into the air. A decent chance of survival turned into definite survival for the Golden Trio. Fucking assholes always got lucky in the worst situations, while the rest of us paid with our lives.

Please let the fire burn through me quickly.

The shelf tilted as it crumbled. My stomach threw itself up into my throat. I screamed in horror, clutching Greg tighter and reaching out to grab something to stop my plunge to the pit of hell beneath me. I was not ready to die. I will never be ready to die.

But this was the end, and acceptance came right after denial and anger. I was going to die, and that was that. Maybe there was something better waiting for me on the other side. The shelf swayed precariously, and the last thought I was ever going to have was the fact that I never said goodbye to mother and father the last time that I saw them. Because it definitely would be the last.

"Malfoy, grab my hand!"

My eyes open. I never thought I would be so grateful to see Harry Potter coming toward me to save me. Me! Without a second thought, I reached for Potter's hand and it slipped from my grasp; our palms were too sweaty and Goyle was too heavy. He'd never get us off the crumbling shelf. My options were to abandon Goyle to die and climb up behind Harry, or wait until Granger and Weasley got Goyle onto the back of their broom.

So I waited, watching through tear-filled eyes as Harry circled once around the shelf, coming up in front of me with his hand outstretched. I didn't reach out and take it. He was shouting at me to hurry up and get on, but I wouldn't move, not until I knew that Goyle was going to be safe.

"IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, HARRY!" Ah, Weasel. Always going for the irony in the worst situations.

I watched in relief as Granger and the Weasel slung Goyle over their broom and took off. I managed to snatch Potter's hand just as the shelf crumbled to dust.

I clutched Potter tightly and couldn't stop myself from screaming. I was terrified, and I wanted out of this war, and I wanted out of this role as a Death Eater. Figures that I nearly had to die for 'the cause' for me to realise how much I didn't care about it.

"_What are you doing? What are you doing? The door is that way!_" I screeched when Harry spun in the opposite direction and dived, avoiding fiery chimeras and a number of other fire creatures I would have difficulty looking at whenever I got the fuck out of this room.

I never saw what Potter caught, but I know he caught something because it sparkled on his wrist as he spun around and zoomed for the door again. Quite frankly, I don't really care what it was, just so long as I get the hell out of this room and never step a foot inside it again.

Never again would I take for granted a breath of fresh air. As my body thumped to the ground, I took in deep, shuddering breaths, pressing a hand to my aching chest. We were out of the room, all five of us. Five, when there should have been six. Only one got too in over his head in confidence and ended up paying the price.

"C-Crabbe," I choked. I wanted to scream and cry, because one of my very good friends was now dead. He died after looking at me with contempt when I tried to spare someone's life. Even if it was just for a few minutes. Contempt. I was used to someone like Potter looking at me like that, but not from my friend. Not from someone I have known practically my whole life. "C-Crabbe …"

"He's dead," said Weasley harshly. The way he sounded, it was as if he believed only light wizards could mourn their dead. That someone like Crabbe didn't deserve to be mourned. He was more than just a hidden face behind a Death Eater's mask. Well, more to me, anyway.

"Let's go," said one of them. I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts to figure out whom.

The Golden Trio left Goyle and I in the corridor. Not for the first time, I wished that this war were over.

Just so I could have my family back. Just so I could mourn the dead properly. Just so I could hurt like a normal human.

Just so I could be me again.

Just so I could begin again.

**The End**


End file.
